“The Dragonscar is yours,” Wylyn said with a shrug. “Build a castle in it for all I care.”

  “Someone cares,” Aefric said. “Someone cares very much. Enough to cast wards that would only be triggered by a large group of riders. Enough to assault those riders with deadly simulacra fashioned from stone into the semblance of living, fighting men.”

  Aefric could see tension in Sifwyn’s posture now. But Wylyn sat forward eagerly. As though this were a tavern, and Aefric telling of his latest adventure.

  “Golems, we used to call those,” Wylyn said. “In my day. Nasty things to fight.”

  “I agree,” Aefric said. “They slew some of my soldiers. Wounded several others badly.”

  “I don’t understand,” Wylyn said. “Why would someone go to such lengths to protect the Dragonscar? I rode its length once with Arinda’s father, Duke Arallan. Years ago. Apart from the bones at the end, it’s nothing but rock.”

  “You truly can think of no reason?” King Colm asked, voice still so gentle it was a bit disturbing.

  “Aefric,” Wylyn said suddenly. “Surely you don’t think I had anything to do with those golems.”

  “I don’t want to,” Aefric said. “But I have no choice.”

  Wylyn scoffed. “Why? Because mine is the duchy next door? You’re smarter than that.”

  “I am,” Aefric said, turning to look at Sifwyn. “Smart enough to recognize the wizard behind those spells when I saw her in your war library.”

  “Preposterous,” Sifwyn said with creditable disdain. “I haven’t been near the Dragonscar in over a season.”

  “The spells were cast between last winter and last midsummer,” Aefric said.

  “Wait,” Wylyn said, raising a hand. “If you believe she’s behind those spells, why didn’t you say something at Stormsent?”

  “Because those simulacra were lethal, Wylyn. And since she cast the spells, I had to assume you knew. Which meant that saying something while in your castle might have been signing my death warrant.”

  “I’m not sure we’ve established that she did cast the spells,” Wylyn said slowly. “Even if she had been to the Dragonscar in the right time frame…”

  Wylyn rolled his lips in and tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at Aefric.

  “That business you told me about a necromancer and Thunderwood. Lies?”

  “Mixed with some truth, yes,” Aefric said. “Sorry.”

  “It was a good story,” Wylyn said, dismissing that part before continuing. “But it was an excuse to see her cast? To get a feel for her magic?”

  “This is pointless and insulting,” Sifwyn said. “I did not cast those spells. I don’t even know how to make stone simulacra.”

  “I didn’t need to see her cast,” Aefric said. “I already knew.”

  “Your majesty,” Sifwyn implored now, on the verge of standing. “This man may be a duke, but I’ve had enough of his lies.”

  “Careful with that,” Wylyn said, easing her back down into her chair with one hand, while his other slipped below the table. “Give him cause to challenge you and I’m likely to be short a wizard.”

  He turned to Aefric.

  “You say you knew without seeing her cast. How? Every wizard I’ve even known would need to see that, to check the feel of her magic.”

  “I didn’t, because I’d already studied the magic of those simulacra. In depth.”

  That got Sifwyn’s attention. Her whole focus was on Aefric now, as he laid on the table the piece of parchment he’d embedded with his sense of her magic.

  “Your majesty,” Aefric said. “On this parchment I captured the essence of the spellwork that created the simulacra I fought in the Dragonscar.”

  Sifwyn interrupted. “That looks nothing like—”

  “My technique,” Aefric said, louder, “is based on the one taught me by the Iron Wands. Their method would have produced a sort of ordered sigil, encapsulating the essence of magic they studied. My own methods vary from that, as your majesty can see, but the result is the same. Any magic-user studying this parchment would identify Sifwyn as the wizard it depicts.”

  “Your grace,” Sifwyn said to Wylyn, “how many more of these insults must I bear? He has only his own word about this. Or must I now tolerate his ducal wizard coming in and repeating these baseless accusations?”

  “She has a point,” Wylyn said, though Aefric couldn’t tell who the older duke believed. “It’s your word against hers, and your ducal wizard is an old friend. He’d say whatever you needed him to say.”

  “He wouldn’t,” Aefric said, “as you’ll understand if you come to know him. But that point is moot. Karbin is off on business.”

  Sifwyn snorted exasperation.

  “However, as I said, any magic-user will suffice. Including a dweomerblade.” He turned to Ser Vria. “Call in Ser Deirdre.”

  “At once, your grace,” she said.

  “Honestly,” Sifwyn said. “His knight?”

  “I know Ser Deirdre,” King Colm said. “She spent two years at Armityr. If the woman has a greatest fault, it’s honesty.”

  “I’ve heard that,” Wylyn muttered, frowning.

  Aefric almost sighed with relief. If Wylyn didn’t dispute Ser Deirdre’s honesty, this matter might yet be resolved without further bloodshed.

  But they weren’t out of the woods yet.

  The mood around the calinwood table was tense. Might’ve helped to open a window, but the security of the meeting room meant it had no windows to open.

  Aefric had his wizard’s valet pour another round of day beer, but only Sers Beatritz and Beornric took any. It seemed that neither King Colm, Aefric, Duke Wylyn nor his wizard Sifwyn had been in the mood for refreshment while Aefric had leveled his accusations at Sifwyn. And through her, Wylyn.

  The Knight of the Crown behind Wylyn and Sifwyn kept her bare steel pointed towards the floor, but Aefric could see readiness in her posture. If either the duke or his wizard tried anything, they wouldn’t get far before she cut them down.

  Just in case, Aefric kept the wand Garram pointed at Sifwyn under the table.

  The other guardian knights stood at the round room’s door, behind where Aefric and the others were sitting.

  Aefric was tempted to call for a servant to take away the rest of the fish, salad, and honeyed oat bread. It was clear that none of them would eat anything more, and the smell was starting to turn a bit.

  Or maybe that was just the nerves in Aefric’s stomach.

  Finally Ser Deirdre entered. She wore her maroon leathers, but it seemed she’d been disarmed of her rapier and dagger before being allowed to enter.

  Though to look at the confidence in her step, Aefric would never have guessed that she was unarmed. Of course, as a dweomerblade, she was never entirely unarmed.

  She wasn’t wearing her dark red hair in its traditional long braid down her back today. Instead it hung loose and a bit wild. A more fetching look than Aefric expected.

  She smiled when she saw Aefric notice. Her smiled gained a bit of mischief, and she knelt to the king.

  Of course, she’d first positioned herself so that the king was between herself and Aefric. No doubt her way of managing to kneel to Aefric without appearing to do so.

  That odd little game of hers.

  “Your majesty,” she said, “your grace, how may I serve?”

  King Colm gestured for her to rise, then held up the enchanted parchment Aefric had made back in the Dragonscar.

  “Do you recognize this?”

  She looked it over slowly.

  “The colors and patterns are interesting…” she said. “Such depth. But… Oh! Is that…”

  She frowned, reaching for the parchment.

  King Colm handed it to her.

  Something shifted slightly in her aspect as she regarded it.

  “I see,” she said, smiling. “Clever. Not a style I’ve seen before, but intriguing.”

  “Then you know what that is?” King Colm asked.

  “Yes, your majesty,” she said, offering back the parchment. “Though I don’t possess the skill to do so, I know that when a wizard encounters the magic of another wizard, he can bind its dregs with his sense of that magic into a sort of sigil, for future identification.”

  “And this parchment holds such a magical sigil?” King Colm asked.

  “It does, your majesty,” she said, “though I’ve not seen it done quite that way before.”

  “So you’ve never seen that parchment before?” Wylyn asked.

  “No, your grace,” she said.

  King Colm nodded. “And would you recognize the magic of the wizard this parchment identifies?”

  “Certainly, your majesty,” Ser Deirdre said confidently. “Though I’d have to see some of that wizard’s magic to do so.”

  “Your grace,” King Colm said to Aefric. “Cast a spell. Something small and innocuous, if you would.”

  “My wizard’s valet is functioning even now,” Aefric said, and gestured. The invisible force of the spell hefted an empty tankard from the buffet and brought it, along with a pitcher of day beer, to the table. “Do you thirst, Ser Deirdre?”

  “Not at the moment, your grace,” she said, studying the unseen force that carried the tankard and pitcher. She shook her head. “The magic of his grace is not depicted on that parchment.”

  “Sifwyn,” King Colm said. “Cast a spell. Something innocuous.”

  She reached for her staff.

  “Without the staff,” Aefric said.

  “Oh, really,” Sifwyn said. “I hardly think it matters—”

  “Do as he says, Sifwyn,” Wylyn said, his voice hard and his hands low. “Or is my ducal wizard so very reliant on a tool?”

  She began to stand.

  “Remain seated,” the knight behind her said.

  “Will this never end?” she asked with a huff. “Fine.”

  With a single pass of her hand, she scoured her lunch plate clean.

  “That’s her,” Ser Deirdre said.

  Sifwyn’s hand with the opal ring came up—

  The knight behind her moved forward—

  Aefric started to cast a spell—

  Before any of those actions finished Duke Wylyn had both his wicked-looking magical daggers crossed at her throat.

  “Do anything I don’t like and you’re headless,” Wylyn said, then addressed the knight behind Sifwyn without looking. “Ser knight, if you would be so kind as to kick away her staff, then remove her opal ring and the bracer from her left arm.”

  “Several of the crystals on her robe are enchanted as well,” Aefric said.

  “Please identify them, your grace,” the knight behind Sifwyn said, while roughly yanking off Sifwyn’s opal ring.

  Aefric pointed them out. The knight cut them off Sifwyn’s robe with her dagger, then removed the bronze bracer.

  “Anything else?” the knight asked.

  “Nothing,” Aefric and Ser Deirdre said at the same time, which made her smile at him. Aefric couldn’t help smiling back.

  “What have you done, Sifwyn?” Wylyn asked, his voice almost casual.

  But the knight who’d disarmed Sifwyn turned her attention to Wylyn.

  “Your daggers, your grace,” she said, though she didn’t move the tip of her sword from behind Sifwyn’s throat.

  Wylyn sighed heavily and said, “Yes. I suppose this looks bad for me.”

  He set the daggers on the table and gestured to Aefric, who had his wizard’s valet move them to safety with Sifwyn’s items.

  “My justiciar is here,” King Colm said simply, addressing Sifwyn. “I will have him confirm everything you tell us. So not only do you gain nothing by lying now, but I swear your punishment will be all the harsher for each lie.”

  Sifwyn hung her head, looking defeated.

  “It was one of the last days of summer, last year,” she said. “Baron Leofstan told me he’d discovered gold. A lot of it, and easily taken. But he needed my help to get it.”

  “Leofstan,” Wylyn grumbled, but was shushed by the king.

  “Go on,” King Colm said to Sifwyn.

  “He took me into the Dragonscar then. To three caves, two on the Deepwater side, one on the Silverlake side.”

  “Into the Dragonscar,” King Colm said.

  “That’s correct, your majesty.”

  “So you knew you had left Silverlake and entered Deepwater while looking for this gold.”

  “Yes, your majesty. Leofstan said that the regent and castellan were off at a festival, and no one would ever know we were there.”

  “Go on,” King Colm said

  “He showed me the caves. Showed me the gold. I said that it didn’t look so easily taken. He said he needed a year to gather resources, and then he could take it all within an aett.”

  Aefric doubted that, given what Po’rek and Ge’rek had smelled on the south side. But then, the baron might’ve been lying to secure Sifwyn’s aid.

  “What did he need from you?” King Colm asked.

  “He needed me to make sure no one took the gold before he could. Had me cast wards that would not alert for anything smaller than a mining company, coming down into the Dragonscar.”

  “Was that all you did?” Aefric asked sharply.

  “No, your grace,” Sifwyn said, shaking her head. “At his order, I created the stone simulacra your grace spoke of.” She looked up and hurried to add. “But I didn’t think anyone would trigger the spell. No one knew about the gold but us. And—”

  “We’ll worry about your motivation later,” King Colm said.

  “And about your sense of duty,” Wylyn grumbled.

  “It was all supposed to be done and finished by the end of spring,” Sifwyn said. “But the early spring was wetter than usual. And Leofstan was having money troubles…”

  She sighed and shook her head.

  “For a while, I didn’t think it would happen at all. But then, just a few aetts ago, Leofstan said he’d found a new source of cheap labor.”

  Wylyn whirled on her, eyes blazing.

  “Your grace,” cautioned the knight behind Sifwyn.

  Wylyn nodded and forced himself to sit back.

  “But then Leofstan came to me, complaining that the duke of Deepwater had gone riding in the Dragonscar. And then I felt the wards trigger, and…”

  She shook her head, expression glum. “I’m afraid everything after that has concerned trying not to get caught.”

  “And what of your liege lord?” King Colm said. “What knew Duke Wylyn of all this?”

  “Nothing, your majesty,” Sifwyn said. “I swear it.”

  “As though your oath still has meaning,” Wylyn said, then turned to King Colm. “Your majesty. I swear that I knew nothing of any of this. Not the gold. Not the spells. And certainly not the treachery of my vassals.”

  King Colm nodded slowly.

  “Your majesty,” Wylyn said, “as a show of good faith, may I volunteer for confinement until your majesty sees fit to have the justiciar confirm my innocence?”

  “You may,” King Colm said. “And I appreciate the gesture. I’ll not keep you waiting any longer than I must.”

  “Thank you, your majesty.”

  “And now,” King Colm said, turning to Sifwyn. “About you.”

  The knight behind Sifwyn raised her eyebrows, as though asking permission for a killing stroke. King Colm shook his head.

  “Your grace,” King Colm said to Aefric. “You have cells that can contain a wizard, I believe?”

  “I do, your majesty,” Aefric said, though those cells felt less secure now than they had before. At least Calder wasn’t here to free her too.

  “Then she shall be confined to one until the justiciar has seen to her, and I have rendered final judgment. In the meantime, her magical trinkets are now yours, your grace, as the first step towards recompense.”

  “My thanks, your majesty,” Aefric said.

  “Your majesty,” Wylyn said. “Once my innocence is established, may I have the task of bringing Baron Leofstan to justice?”

  “Assuming the justiciar confirms your innocence, you may,” King Colm said. “So long as you bring him to me here at Water’s End.”

  “Your majesty,” Wylyn said, voice hard, “I shall.”

  At the king’s gesture, more Knights of the Crown came in and bound Sifwyn tightly, for escort to a wizard cell, guided by Ser Micham.

  Under the circumstances, Aefric’s own castle guards were considered sufficient to escort Wylyn to his rooms and keep him there. Though before he left, he turned to Aefric.

  “I’m deeply sorry, Aefric,” he said. “I had no idea. And rest assured. I will personally guarantee any punishment and recompense his majesty metes out in this matter.”

  “Thank you, Wylyn,” Aefric said. “I’m glad to know you weren’t behind it.”

  Wylyn and Sifwyn were taken away.

  “And now, your grace,” King Colm said, turning to Aefric, “I wish to see what my justiciar has learned about those knights. Care to join me?”

  “If I might, your majesty,” Aefric said, “there’s a personal letter that’s been waiting days for my eyes.”

  “From my daughter?” he asked.

  “No, your majesty.”

  “Then by all means,” King Colm said with a knowing smile. “Go see what Baroness Regent Byrhta Ol’Caran has to say.”

  “Thank you, your majesty. I will.”

  But first, Aefric had to see his new enchanted items safely to his magical lab, for future study.

  Ah. A moment of alone time in Aefric’s study. The cool blues and greens of the walls. The black walnut floorboards, and the soft gray rugs. The scent of lilies on the air.

  A haven amidst the chaos.

  Today the navy blue curtains stood open, and the wide windows showed a beautiful afternoon over Lake Deepwater.

  For once, the day was not so hot as to make him sweat just sitting around. And yet, the tension of that meeting had Aefric sweating.

  That would never do. The meeting was over and done.

  A quick spell cleaned Aefric of that perspiration.

  He drew a deep breath. Let it out slowly.

  He was alone. He could stand still, just inside the closed door, and listen, hearing nothing more than his own breathing. His own heartbeat.